


The Cupcake Bride

by The_Unnatural_Disaster (havent_got_a_clue)



Series: Cracky Holidays To All! [1]
Category: Princess Bride (1987), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fun, Humor, M/M, Mashup, Parody, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havent_got_a_clue/pseuds/The_Unnatural_Disaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greenberg takes creative writing and turns in a twist on a <i>very</i> familiar classic tale. </p>
<p>-or-</p>
<p>Lacrosse. Fighting. Torture. Booze. True love. Hate. Revenge. Goalies. Coaches. Bad men. Good men. Beautifulest Greenberg. Vampires (or so Greenberg thinks). Beasts of all natures and descriptions. Pain. Death. Brave men. Coward men. Strongest men. Chases. Escapes. Lies. Truths. Passion. Miracles.</p>
<p>“OH FOR F--GREENBERG! YOU’RE HANDWASHING ALL THE TEAM’S JOCKSTRAPS!”</p>
<p>“As you wish.”</p>
<p>That day, Greenberg was amazed to discover that when he was yelling,"GREENBERG," what he really meant was, “I love you.” And even more amazing was the day he realized he truly loved him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cupcake Bride

**Author's Note:**

> The Princess Bride is my favorite book and also my favorite movie, so, apologies to Mr. William Goldman first and foremost.
> 
> I apologize for nothing else. 
> 
>  
> 
> Written for No Angst December. This is a present to all Teen Wolf fans who need a laugh. Also for the Teen Wolf Bingo Square: Broken. Because Greenberg breaks Finstock and Greenberg is broken to even try something like that and writing this damned thing just about broke me.

  Bobby was raised on a small farm in the state of California. His favorite pastimes were coaching lacrosse and annoying a player on the team. His name was Greenberg.

Nothing gave Bobby more pleasure as ordering Greenberg around.

“GREENBERG! FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, GET THE BALL AND PUT IT IN THE NET! YOU DO KNOW HOW TO PLAY LACROSSE, DON’T YOU? THIS ISN’T SHUFFLEBOARD WITH GRANDPA DOWN AT THE CLUB, YOU KNOW!”

“As you wish.”

“GREENBERG! YOU SCORED FOR THE OTHER TEAM! YOU’RE DOING LUNGES UNTIL YOUR QUADS FALL OFF!”

“As you wish.”

As you wish was all Greenberg ever said to Bobby.

“OH FOR F--GREENBERG! YOU’RE HANDWASHING ALL THE TEAM’S JOCKSTRAPS!”

“As you wish.”

That day, Greenberg was amazed to discover that when he was yelling,”GREENBERG," what he really meant was, “I love you.” And even more amazing was the day he realized he truly loved him back.

“GREENBERG!” Greenberg paused in the doorway of Bobby’s office. “Fetch me...that stapler.”

“As you wish.”

Greenberg rounded Bobby’s desk and picked up the stapler for him. Bobby smiled and leaned in to kiss Greenberg tenderly on the lips.

  Bobby had no money for marriage, so he packed his bags and left Beacon Hills in the summer to seek his fortune in Southern California. It was a very emotional time for Greenberg.

“I fear I will never see you again.”

“Oh, for crap’s sake, Greenberg! It’s just Los Angeles!”

“But what if something happens to you?”

“Oh, for the love of all things holy on this earth, it’s, like, a 4 hour drive! I’m not even out of cell phone range! I just drive back if you need me!”

“But how can you be sure?”

“Oh, my GOD. You must have a god damned magical dick for me to go through all this shit.”

Bobby picked up his bag and his laptop case and kissed Greenberg goodbye.

 

Bobby didn’t reach his destination. He was carjacked by the Dredd Pirate Roberts, a notorious gang member who never left victims alive. When Greenberg got the news Bobby was murdered, he went into his room and shut the door, and for days he neither slept nor ate.

“I will never play lacrosse again.”

Three months later, Beacon Hills High School’s auditorium was filled as never before to hear the announcement concerning the fate of the school’s lacrosse team. The trumpets sounded and all eyes fell on the spotlight, where none other than Adrian Harris emerged to address the crowd.

“My people, a month from now, competitive lacrosse season will begin. I have been chosen the new lacrosse team coach and I have chosen the new team captain. He was once a moron like yourselves, but perhaps, now that I actually taught him how to play, you will not find him so moronic now. Would you like to meet him?”

The people shouted their answer.

“YES!”

“My people, the team captain, Greenberg.”

Greenberg walked up to join Coach Harris at his side and the people cheered, but Greenberg’s emptiness consumed him. Although the law of the land gave Harris the right to choose his team captain, Greenberg did not want to play for the team anymore. It was Harris’ hold on his chemistry grade that forced him to stay on the team.

Since all the weird stuff was happening with the regular players ( _seriously, has anyone else noticed all the weird stuff going on with the rest of the team?_ \--Greenberg) and they had become terribly unreliable, Greenberg was the team’s last hope.

 

Despite Harris’ reassurance that Greenberg would grow to love lacrosse again, the only joy he found was in his daily suicide runs (they reminded him of his dearly beloved Bobby).

One day, during a particularly hard run, three young men approached Greenberg.

“A word, my good man? We are but poor lost Beacon Hills students. Is the office nearby?”

“There is nothing nearby but the field house and the baseball fields.”

“Then there will be no one to hear you scream!”

The bigger of the two men performed a Vulcan Nerve Pinch on Greenberg and he passed right out.

 

“What is that you’re ripping,” asked Rodriguez.

“It’s fabric from a Smithfield Heights’ lacrosse player’s uniform,” answered Belucci.

“The team ranked just behind Beacon Hills and just above us,” asked the burly but kind of dumb goalie, Bjorn.

"When Beacon Hills discovers this fabric, it will make Beacon Hills suspect they have abducted their captain. When they find him drowned in the fountain in front of Smithfield, their suspicions will be totally confirmed.”

“You never said anything about killing anyone!”

“I’ve hired you to help us reach number one in the district! Lacrosse is serious business with a long and glorious history!”

“I just don’t think it’s right, killing an innocent boy.”

“Am I going deaf, or did I hear the word ‘THINK’ escape from you lips! You were not hired for your brains, stupid! Do you want to stay on first line or do you want me to send you both back where you came from? Benched? On Junior Varsity?”

The men, from the lacrosse team from the number three team in the district, Bella Vista High School, threw Greenberg in the back of a pickup truck and drove away into the night.

Belucci, the assistant coach, short and not very athletic, but with a mind for formations and strategy that could rival the greatest NFL coaches in history, drove steadily and legally so they would not attract the attention of the local authorities.

“We’ll reach home by midnight. Why are you doing that?”

Rodriguez, the team’s best player by far (how good? He was better than Jackson, but the rest of the team dragged him down. If it were a one-on-one sport, he’d be an Olympic champ), kept looking behind the truck.

“Making sure nobody’s following us.”

“Rodriguez, it’s inconceivable. No one from Smithfield knows what we’ve done and no one from Beacon Hills could have caught up so fast. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that I happened to look behind us and something is there.”

“What? Probably some backwoods hunter driving out to the preserve to hunt some deer. Out of season. In the rain. In a sportscar. You know? I’m just going to drive faster.”

Greenberg awoke to the freezing rain pouring into the truck bed. He peaked over the edge of the tailgate and saw the black as night car gaining on them. He didn’t know who it was, but there was a good chance the driver was a lot friendlier than his captors. He tried to roll out of the truck bed, but the driver sped up and he knew he would probably die if he tried.

The bright lights of the car shined on him and he attempted to look distressed so maybe the driver would at least call the cops, but the truck pulled a sharp turn into the woods and he slammed against the side of the bed and passed out again.

He awoke this time to the big, muscled goalie yanking him up by his shirt.

“I’m sorry, little man, but we’re going to have to go on foot from here. Belucci says it’s too dangerous to keep driving.” He hoisted Greenberg on his back and the three Bella Vista men prepared for a treacherous hike up the steepest of local hills to get to Smithfield in the valley below.

Bjorn carried Greenberg and also assisted Belucci. It slowed them down considerably. Rodriguez looked toward the foot of the hill to see that a man clad in all black was steadily ascending the hill behind him.

“Coach, he’s catching up to us.”

“Inconceivable! Faster!”

“I’m trying, coach!” Bjorn did not want to disappoint his assistant coach.

“I’m just going to have to get myself a new goalie!”

“Don’t say that, coach! Please?”

"Did I make it clear that your position is at stake?”

But they reached the top of the hill before the man in black and Belucci ordered Rodriguez to “take care of the problem” while he got Greenberg to the school. Rodriguez watched the man in black climb up the slippery wet slope of the hill with ease.

“Helllllllllooooooo?”

“Look, sweetheart. I don’t know about you, but I’m soaking wet, freezing my good nut off, and I’m really pissed off that I have to do this whole thing right now when I should be sitting at home drinking myself into a stupor and watching Bridezillas, so would you do me a favor and shut the hell up until I get up there?”

“Uh...sorry?”

“Uh-huh.”

He let the man in black climb a bit more. But Rodriguez was not a patient man.

“I don’t suppose you could hurry up a bit?”

“If you’re in such a hurry, you could, I don’t know, give me a hand or kiss my ass or find something useful like that to do.”

Rodriguez considered the man in black and his attitude for a moment. “Mmmmmmmmm...no. I’ll wait.”

Ten minutes later, the man in black reached the top of the hill, huffing and puffing.

“Are you ready, old man?” Rodriguez raised his lacrosse stick and a ball.

“Oh, you have no idea, angel cheeks. I’m going to kick your ass.”

The man in black retrieved his own lacrosse stick that was strapped to his back and together the two men duelled to the death. They ran right, they faked left, they defensed and offensed and shot for makeshift goals, first to five lived.

“You’re pretty good, gramps.”

“I ought to be, you little shit.”

The man in black was up 4-3, but Rodriguez was grinning.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I know something you don’t know.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, but go ahead and impress me with your worldly knowledge.”

“I am not right handed.” Rodriguez switched his grip on the stick and the fight resumed anew.

“You’re amazing!”

“I know!”

“There’s something I ought to tell you.”

“Shoot, gramps.”

“I am not left handed.”

The man in black also switched his grip and shot a winning goal past Rodriguez before he knew what happened. Rodriguez dropped to his knees.

“Kill me quickly. Tell my mom I died doing what I love. Tell Bjorn he can have my iPad and my porn stash. Tell my girlfriend I never made it with that cheerleader at the Halloween party.”

“I would as soon destroy my testicle as an artist like yourself. However, since I can’t have you following me, either....” The man in black hit Rodriguez with the blunt end of his lacrosse stick and Rodriguez was out cold.

“You have a place on my team if I ever get it back.”

Belucci watched from a distance as the man in black moved closer to him.

“I can’t believe it! He beat Rodriguez! Bjorn! Finish him!”

“What do I do?”

“Weren’t you a little league pitcher?”

“Yes?”

“Then pick up one of those baseball sized rocks over there and the minute you see the man in black’s head, HIT IT WITH THE ROCK!”

Belucci pulled Greenberg along to the school, leaving Bjorn alone to wait for the man in black. After a few minutes, he came running around the corner of a pine tree, struggling for breath. Bjorn found a good sized rock and lobbed it in the direction of his head. It shook the pine tree as it hit.

“I did that on purpose. I don’t have to miss. I was a pitcher on the Bella Vista Hedgehogs when I was 10.”

“Okaaaaay. What happens now?”

“I was also on the JV wrestling team. It isn’t fair to you for me to throw rocks at your head when you don’t have a baseball bat to defend yourself.”

“So, you’ll put down your rock and I’ll put down my lacrosse stick and we’ll try and kill each other like CM Punk and Jon Cena?”

“I could kill you know.” Bjorn raised the rock.

“Whoa, hold on there, big guy. I like the first option better.”

The man in black circled Bjorn and charged at him. With no effect.

“Are you fucking with me? What are you, 350 pounds of solid muscle?”

He charged at him again, but this time, Bjorn made a play for the man in black as if he were a lacrosse ball. But the man in black was a wily one and rolled under him.

“That would have been a goal,” Bjorn observed. “It takes a lot to get a ball by me. Who are you? Why are you wearing a mask?”

“I’m just a pissed off guy who’s getting really tired of the bullshit and I really just want to get this done and go home and drink a bottle of whiskey and pass out.”

The man in black faked right and instead hopped on Bjorn’s back, pulling tightly around his throat to cut off his air supply. Bjorn’s meaty arms, good for defending, but terrible at yoga, could not reach around to shake off the man in black. He tried to scrape him off using a tree trunk, but still he remained. He tried to slam him up against the tree to knock him off, but still he clung to Bjorn. All the while, the man in black held tighter and tighter until Bjorn dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“I don’t need a goalie, but I sure as hell could find a place for you on my team when I get it back.”

 

Coach Harris and his lacrosse team had set off in search of Greenberg. They came upon the spot where the man in black had defeated Rodriguez.

“There was a mighty lacrosse match.”

“Who won? How did it end,” asked Will, a player handpicked by Harris for the team.

“The loser ran off alone and the winner...followed those footsteps toward Smithfield.”

“Shall we track them both?”

“The loser is nothing. Only Greenberg matters. Clearly this was all planned by Smithfield’s lacrosse team.”

“Could this be a trap?”

“I always think everything could be a trap...I teach Stilinski. It’s how I’m still alive.”

 

The man in black, meanwhile, had finally caught up to Assistant Coach Belucci and Greenberg. They were seated at a picnic table in the middle of Smithfield City Park. Greenberg was blindfolded next to Belucci, who had him at knifepoint.

“So. It is down to you and it is down to me.”

The man in black stepped closer.

“If you wish him dead, by all means, keep moving forward.”

“Christ on a cracker. You might be doing me a favor, actually, if you did kill him. I don’t know if he’s worth all this.”

“Wait. What? You don’t want him back?” He pressed the knife into Greenberg’s throat enough to draw a drop of blood.

“God help me,” said the man in black under his breath. “No. Wait. Let’s work this out. He’s not worth you going to jail for murder. Just let me take him off your hands. I’m sure what I do to him for making me go through all this will be far worse for him than murder.”

“No way. He’s worth a lot to me once he’s dead. I got a mortgage to pay.”

“There’s nothing I can do?”

“Afraid not. I’m no match for you physically and you’re no match for my brains.”

The man in black chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Ok, then. Let’s drink for it.”

“Shots?”

The man in black nodded.

“For Greenberg?”

The man in black nodded.

“To the death?”Belucci was positively gleeful.

The man in black nodded.

“I accept." Belucci was an Alpha Kappa Beta once. He knew how to handle his liquor.

“Good." The man in black reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a bottle of something green. He then pulled out two shot glasses and filled them up. “Drink.”

Belucci shrugged and together they downed the first shot. Belucci’s eyes bulged out and he coughed like he was choking, but the man in black slammed his glass down and poured another round. Two shots. Three. Four. Five. Six...Belucci was losing. His face turned red and he saw several men in black before him. Seven. Belucci could hear laughing. Eight. Everything was going black before him. Ni-And Belucci passed out cold.

The man in black chuckled and removed Greenberg’s blindfold.

“Who are you,” asked Greenberg.

“Santa Claus. Who do you think?”

“Is he dead?”

“No, but he’s going to be out awhile.” The man in black shook the last drops from the bottle into his mouth. “Absinthe. The real stuff. I spent a semester of college in Paris drinking this stuff every day. It has no effect on me anymore.”

The man in black grabbed Greenberg’s arm and hoisted him up.

“Now, let’s go. If I get you back before 11:30, I can still catch Conan.”

 

Meanwhile, Harris came upon the spot where the man in black beat Bjorn. “Someone has defeated a goalie. A good goalie. There will be great suffering in Smithfield if Greenberg dies.”

 

The man in black and Greenberg ran and ran back towards Beacon Hills, stopping only when the man in black was out of breath.

“OH, GOD. Let me rest for a minute. Jesus tap dancing Christ. I have run like this since that time I was in college and TPed the Dean’s house and he came out halfway through.”

“Look, mister. If you could just let me go, whatever you ask for, my lacrosse coach will give it to you.”

“You think your beloved lacrosse coach will save you?”

“I never said he was my beloved lacrosse coach, and yes, he will save me. That I know. We have a game tomorrow.”

“You admit to me you do not love your lacrosse coach.”

“I don’t think he even really knows how to play. I think he just took the job for extra money. In fact, I think he thinks we’re playing baseball out there. He knows I do not love him.”

“Are not capable of love is what you mean.”

“I have loved my coach more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream.”

The man in black slapped Greenberg upside the head. “You are so stupid, Greenberg. God. Let’s go." And they continued off into the night.

 

Coach Harris happened upon the picnic table Belucci was draped across singing “Born This Way.” He picked up the empty bottle and sniffed.

“Absinthe. I’d bet my life on it. And there are Greenberg’s footprints in the mud. He is alive, or was an hour ago. If he is otherwise when I find him, I shall be very put out.”

He left Belucci and his one man Lady GaGa revue and followed the footsteps towards Beacon Hills.

 

The man in black and Greenberg stopped for another rest at the top of a hill at the edge of the Beacon Hills Preserve.

“Give me a minute, Greenberg.” He clutched his chest in agony from running so hard.

“I know who you are. Your cruelty reveals everything. You’re the Dredd Pirate Roberts, admit it!”

“Yeah, ok, Greenberg. Because I totally look like a 19 year old gangster with my polo shirt from the Gap and my slightly receding hairline.” He shook his head in defeat and slapped him upside the head again.

“Then who are you?”

“For the love of--fine, Lois Lane. I can see the mask is breaking your tiny little brain, so I’m going to throw you a bone here.” The man in black began to remove his mask, but it was too dark for Greenberg to see properly. He stepped forward to get a better look, but tripped over a tree root and fell into the man in black, who stumbled back and fell down the hill.

“GREENBERG! YOU IDIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!”

And it was that moment that Greenberg figured it out. “Oh,my sweet Bobby! What have I done?” Greenberg threw himself down the hill, rolling after his beloved Finstock.

 

 

Harris and his team stood at the top of an opposing hill.

“He disappeared. He must have seen us closing in. They are headed straight for the Preserve.”

 

Finstock and Greenberg lay at the bottom of the hill for a few minutes, gasping for breath and pretty sure the other was completely dead from the fall. It was Bobby who moved first toward Greenberg, crawling on his belly in pain.

“Are you dead, Greenberg?”

“Dead? You’re here! This must be heaven!”

“Ok, alive, but brain damaged. Completely normal.” And with that, he leaned in and kissed Greenberg tenderly.

A few minutes later, when they had had their fill of kissing and reuniting, they got to their feet and raced along the ravine floor.

“Ha! That asshole Harris is too late! A few more steps and we’ll be safe in the Preserve.”

“We’ll never survive.”

“Bullshit. You’re just saying that because no one ever has.” And with that, they crossed the into the Preserve.

 

“How are you alive, Bobby? The Dredd Pirate Roberts never leaves anyone alive.”

“Oh, that? Let’s just say I zigged when he expected me to zag and he didn’t get me where he thought he did. But I was a witness who could put him away for life. So I spent some time in the Witness Protection program. I had to let everyone think I was dead until he was behind bars. And now that he is, I can come back and reclaim my team.” He looked at Greenberg. “And you.”

Greenberg smiled for a moment, but then looked terrified.

“But Bobby, what about the vampires?”

“The what now?”

“Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think Scott is a vampire. And maybe Jackson and Issac, too.”

Finstock pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, really, Bobby. I saw Twilight. They’ve been acting all weird lately. All of them. I think they’re vampires and I think they hang out here. I mean, they’re suddenly super strong and all the girls want them now and...and....”

“Greenberg! Get a hold of yourself! And stop reading that shit! Vampires are about as real as werewolves!” Finstock walked on ahead of Greenberg.

 

The lovers emerged from the other side of the Preserve unharmed a few hours later, as dawn approached.

“Now, was that so terrible,”asked Bobby. He leaned in to kiss Greenberg, but several men on ATVs rode up noisily beside them.

“Finstock!”

“Harris!”

“Give up, Finstock! I have control of the team now. I have Greenberg, too. There’s nothing left for you here. Go back to Los Angeles. Greenberg! Get on the back or I fail you in my class and I make sure you fail all your other ones, too!”

“GREENBERG, DON’T YOU DO IT!!” Finstock waved his lacrosse stick at Harris as warning.

“Greenberg! Get on NOW.”

“I will fucking KILL YOU, Harris!”

“Will you promise not to hurt him?”

“GREENBERG. WHAT IN THE H--” Greenberg stopped Finstock with a light touch on his arm.

“If I go back with you and play in the big game, will you promise not to hurt Bobby? Send him on his way. Let him go back to LA and I will go with you peacefully.”

“May I teach a thousand years and never give Stilinski detention again.”

Greenberg turned to Bobby. “I thought you were dead once and it nearly destroyed me. I could not bear it if you died again.”

Harris cut short their dramatic goodbye as he picked Greenberg up by his shirt and plucked him down on the back of the ATV and sped away, leaving Bobby alone with several new members of the lacrosse team--new and loyal to Harris.

“Come on, Finstock. We’ll get you to the train station so you can be on your way.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Yeah, uh-huh. That’s exactly where we’re going, right? Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, kid--” But the hilt of a lacrosse stick knocked Finstock out cold.

 

Greenberg walked the halls of Beacon Hills High School in a melancholy state. Everyone noticed the change in him and people who had never given him a second glance were suddenly sympathetic to his depression. They wrongly assumed it was nerves--the big game was looming closer and closer.

 

On the night of the big game, Greenberg ran out onto the field as the announcer called his number. Everyone cheered for him; he was the Captain and this was his moment, but, from above the din came a lone voice of dissent: A loud “BOOOOOOO” came wailing over the crowd until the cheering died down and Greenberg’s ears filled with the sound.

“BOOOOOO! BOOOOOOO! BOOOOOOO!” An old woman stood as the rest of the crowd sat in the bleachers.

“Why do you do this?”

“Because you had love in your hands and you gave it up!”

“But they would have failed me if I hadn’t done it! They would have killed Bobby, too!”

“Your true coach lives and you play for another! And because of that you will play for shit! Because that’s what you are! The Captain of shit, the captain of crap! Boo! Boo! Trash! Puke! Boo! Boo! Boooooooo!”

Greenberg gasped as he awoke. The big game was 2 days away and his nightmares grew steadily worse each night.

Greenberg threw on some clothes and barged into Harris’ office before school.

“It comes to this. I love Bobby. I always have. I always will. If you tell me I must play under you, please believe me I’ll be dead by morning.”

Harris and Will stared at him with unchanging annoyance set deep in their faces.

“I’ll tell you what, Greenberg. I’ll send a text to Finstock. If he wants you, he’ll come and get you. If not, you play the big game without bitching about it and I fail you in my class anyway. Are you that certain Finstock still wants you?”

“My Bobby will always come for me.”

Harris snorted. “OK, your loss.”

Greenberg marched out, satisfied with the deal, leaving Harris and Will alone. Will looked at Harris.

“He really is an idiot, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah. Funny, though, when Bella Vista offered me the job and that kick-ass raise on the condition that I knock Smithfield and Beacon Hills down the lacrosse standings, I thought it was going to be hard. Hiring my soon-to-be players and the assistant coach to have the Beacon Hills team captain murdered on Smithfield soil was clever, but when they find Greenberg dead on the Smithfield Heights field the night of the big game, it will be a piece of cake for Bella Vista to become number one by default with all that nasty murder business tying everyone up!”

 

Finstock awoke strapped to a table. It as dark and it smelled of sweat and mildew. The field house. No one ever went in the field house unless there was practice and even then it was restricted to coaches and equipment managers. No one would know to look for him here.

“What the hell?”

A voice came from the darkness. “Oh, Coach Finstock. I know you have a deep and abiding love for the game. I was at every game, even though you denied me a spot on the team every time I tried out. I also know how many injuries there were under your reign. I’m sure it weighed on you deeply to see your boys out there getting hurt day after day. I mean, sure, there are a lot fewer injuries now that Harris finally kicked McCall, Isaac, and Jackson off the team ( _seriously, like, am I the ONLY ONE who sees how crazy strong those three are?!! Does anyone else pay attention?_ \--Greenberg). So, I thought you might like to help test out some new safety equipment I invented. You’ll be the first test subject, so please, be honest on how much pain you’re in. This being our first session, I’ll try you out on the jv squad.”

Will spent the next few minutes strapping Bobby into a makeshift padded device. It covered him from head to toe and did not allow him any movement. He felt himself then being strapped to a wheeled frame. He could only imagine that he looked like a football training dummy. Will wheeled him outside to the field. He could see bits of sunlight through the padding, but he could not scream.

Will blew his whistle and the jv team began assaulting him, one by one. They were clumsy, heavy, and the padding was not nearly enough to soften the blows. For what seemed like hours, he was hit head on by unathletic 15 year olds and he could not deny that he was in severe pain. At sundown, Will wheeled him back into the field house and unstrapped him from the padding and strapped him back onto the table.

“So, Finstock, how do you feel? And, remember, this is for posterity.”

Finstock could only whimper.

 

Meanwhile, Rodriguez and Bjorn found each other on the edge of town and Bjorn told Rodriguez of the fate of Belucci (nursing a killer hangover at home) and of how they were played by Harris and how much money Belucci stood to make for making them commit murder. He also told him the identity of the man in black and his offer to join his team if he could win it back.

“So, let’s help him. We need him and he needs us. We get Belucci and Harris and we get a spot on the number one team in the district. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

Rodriguez saw just one flaw in his plan. “So, where is Finstock now?”

“Ummmm...I don’t know.”

“It’s a start. Let’s go.”

It was the night of the big game, for real this time. Harris let it slip to the new principal that there might be extra fighting and retaliation if Beacon Hills won, so he hired extra security to guard the entrances and check for weapons and alcohol.

Harris huddled the team in the locker room for a pre-game speech.

“Gentlemen, I want you to think of me like you thought of Coach Finstock. His memory is here in this locker room and I want to pay tribute to it tonight.” He leered at Greenberg, taunting him. “I have just one thing I would want to say to Smithfield tonight: Give me the child. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way to to the castle beyond the Goblin city to take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom is as great. YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!”

Harris looked around the room, expecting a rallying cheer like Finstock once commanded after his speech, but was instead greeted with a few raised eyebrows and an awkward silence.

“Come on, boys! Labyrinth? David Bowie? Muppets? Oh, forget it! Get out there and play, you uncultured heathens!”

The team filed out in a daze, but Greenberg stayed behind.

“Ah, Greenberg! Are you ready to play?”

“You never sent that text, did you? Oh, well, doesn’t matter. Bobby will come for me anyway.”

“You’re so stupid, Greenberg.”

“Yes. Yes I am. But only Bobby gets to say that to me! Not a crap poor excuse for a lacrosse coach!”

This angered Harris. “I would not say such things if I were you.”

“Why? You can’t hurt me! You need me to play tonight! And when I do get out on that field, I know that Bobby will appear on the sidelines to cheer me on! And then he’s going to kick your ass out of here and get his team back!”

“I WOULD NOT SAY SUCH THINGS IF I WERE YOU!” Harris grabbed his arm and dragged him to the field, pulling on his limbs painfully.

He shoved him between Will and a few of his other hand picked players and ran off. He ran until he reached the field house and Bobby.

“You truly love each other. And so you might have been truly happy. Not one couple in a century has that chance, no matter what Twilight says. So I think no man in a century will suffer as greatly as you will!”

Harris shoved Bobby’s tired and weak body into the padding and dragged it to the back of the field house, where Harris had parked his car. Bobby could barely see the headlights careening toward him before he blacked out.

Rodriguez and Bjorn had been trying to sneak into the game all night and had just found a way that put them behind the field house at the exact moment Harris’ car revved up. Rodriguez gasped when he saw the padded bulk go flying.

“Bjorn! Holy shit! It’s Finstock! Harris just hit him with his car!”

Bjorn squinted. “How do you know, Rodriguez?”

“Finstock’s true love is playing under Harris’ coaching tonight. It’s obvious he was trying to stop him! Come on!”

Harris left Finstock crumpled up against the back wall, still padded up. No one would notice him there. He would take care of the body after the game. Maybe he’d add Finstock’s corpse to the scene of Greenberg’s murder just to cause that much more confusion.

Rodriguez and Bjorn raced to Finstock and unwrapped him.

Bjorn gasped. “He’s dead!”

“NO! I refuse to accept that! We need a second opinion! Where’s the closest hospital? We’ll get him there without attracting too much attention.”

Together they shoved Bobby into the back of Rodriguez’s car and they drove away.

But, in their hurry, they had neglected to look at the gas gauge. Ten minutes later, they pulled into an empty parking lot riding on fumes.

“Well, shit.”

“No, dude, look. It’s a doctor’s office!”

“Bjorn! That’s a veterinarian’s office!”

“It’s good enough! And there’s still a light on!”

Dr. Deaton, the town’s only vet, opened the door after hearing frantic knocks.

“Can I help you boys?”

“Please, doc! We think he’s dead and we really need him to not be dead! Can you help?”

Deaton bent down to get a better look at the man slumped over the boys.

“Is that...Bobby Finstock?”

“Yes, sir! And right now, Harris is sabotaging the lacrosse team so he can get a job and a raise at Bella Vista and he is planning on murdering the team captain and--”

“Wait, you mean ADRIAN Harris?”

“Yes, sir! Can you help?”

“Will it ruin Harris if Finstock lives?”

“Most definitely.”

“I’m on the job. Put him on a table in the back.”

The boys carried him in and laid him on a metal table. Deaton examined him carefully for a long time. “Ok. I can do this. He’s knocked out pretty good, but he’s not dead. He may have a cracked rib and maybe a broken foot, but all in all, it’s not too bad. I can give him a temporary fix, but he HAS to get to a hospital tonight, ok?”

“Yes, sir. How are you going to fix him?”

“Have you boys ever seen Pulp Fiction?”

Three minutes and a syringe full of adrenaline later, Bobby Finstock sat straight up and spoke his first word in days. “GREEEEENBEEERRRGGGG!”

“I’d say he’s ready to go,” observed Deaton. “Have fun getting Harris. Get one in there for me, ok? Take my car, even!”

As the boys helped a disoriented Finstock out the door, Deaton could hear Finstock all the way out to the parking lot. “WHERE THE HELL IS HARRIS? I’LL FUCKING KILL THAT PIECE OF SHIT IF HE HARMS ONE HAIR ON GREENBERG’S HEAD! THAT’S MY GODDAMNED JOB! LET ME AT HIM! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TWO? WHERE’S GREENBERG? WHERE’S MY TEAM?”

Rodriguez gunned it all the way back to the school, but time was running out. It had to be near the end of the game by then.

And it was.

And with Harris’ genius plan to make Greenberg captain, Beacon Hills was down 3-8, just like he’d planned.

The men could see the scoreboard from the road. Finstock groaned.

“They’re ruining all my hard work! Drive faster!”

“How do we stop this, Coach?”

“There’s only one way to get past security and stop this game. And Deaton is not going to like it.”

Smithfield was about to score another goal. There was no coming back from a 6 point deficit at this stage in the game. But a rumble from the other side of the stands gave both teams pause. It was louder than the crowd and getting closer.

Closer.

Closer.

People in the stands began to flee in terror and before anyone on the field knew what was going on, a car smashed through the fence and careened into the goal, narrowly missing the Smithfield goalie, who fled at the last second.

The car screeched to a halt and back up, turned around, and slammed into the other goal, taking it with them as they made deep gouges in the grass of the playing pitch before disappearing out the other side. Harris panicked and yelled for Will to take Greenberg to the field house as people ran to and fro in confusion.

Will grabbed him, shoved in the field house, and locked the door.

Greenberg was alone.

Alone and his Bobby was not coming for him. He was done for. He lost the game and he was going to flunk out his senior year. He looked around the small room to see what might be lying around to help him kill his pain, but the best he could find was a broken lacrosse stick. He picked up the stick, intending to end it all by bashing his own skull in, but a voice stopped him as he raised the stick as high as he could above his head.

“Greenberg! You moron! You can’t kill yourself with a lacrosse stick! If you could Stilinski would be dead a hundred times over by now!”

Bobby!

Greenberg ran over to where Finstock was sitting on a bench and straddled him, kissing him violently, desperately.

“Oh, Bobby! Will you ever forgive me?”

“Oh, Jesus. What have you done now?”

“I lost us the game! I didn’t mean to! I promise!”

“Oh, that? Never happened.”

“What?” Greenberg was incredulous.

“Never happened!”

“But the scoreboard said we were down 3-8 when the game was disrupted.”

“Yeah, but the game never finished! We have the right to rematch when the game ends unexpectedly before its time! Do you even know the rules of lacrosse? I’m damned sure Harris doesn’t.”

“A technicality that will shortly be remedied.” Harris had appeared in the doorway. “But first...” Harris drew his lacrosse stick. “To the death.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “No. You know what? I’m sick of this. Greenberg? I’ll make sure you get straight As for the rest of the year if you take care of him right now.”

And with that, Greenberg raised his broken lacrosse stick and brought it crashing down on Harris’ head, knocking him out cold just in time for the sheriff to burst in. After telling the deputies exactly how Harris planned to have Greenberg murdered and frame it on Smithfield and about kidnapping Bobby and trying to kill him, Adrian Harris and Dan Belucci were arrested on so many charges it was almost faster to list what they WEREN’T charged with.

Finstock and Greenberg emerged from the field house that night, beaten, bloody, but happy. Rodriguez and Bjorn were waiting outside to offer to take Finstock to the hospital to tend to his injuries, but before they climbed into Deaton’s car (scratched to hell on the hood), Finstock turned to Greenberg and leaned in to kiss him.

Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure...this one left them all behind.

The End.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right?”

“Bobby, I couldn’t make this up if I tried.” Phil had taught high school English for over twenty years and had never seen anything like this in all his time.

“Greenberg turned this in for his writing assignment. For a GRADE?”

“Yeah, and I don’t know whether to fail him for ripping off The Princess Bride so heavily--”

“Not to mention the awesome Judge Dredd and Pulp Fiction references he threw in there.”

“--or give him an A for turning it on its head and making it about lacrosse and....”

“And what?”

“Bobby, come on. The kid has it badly for you.”

“Yeah, and I am going to take care of that right the hell now.” Finstock took the papers and walked out to Phil’s warning to “be very careful, Bobby.”

Greenberg was alone in the locker room, rummaging through his gym bag. Finstock took a deep breath as he watched him. He thought of every word of Greenberg’s he’d read and weighed his options.

“GREENBEEEEEEEERG! YOU CARE TO EXPLAIN THIS SORRY EXCUSE FOR A PRINCESS BRIDE RIP OFF HERE?”

Greenberg looked up, startled, but regained his composure quickly.

“As you wish.”

And with that, Finstock leaned in close and kissed Greenberg tenderly and knocked Greenberg’s imagined kiss with him right out of the water.

 

The (real) end.


End file.
